


Passion Play

by ArtemisEmrys



Series: Voyeur Series [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: A little romance at the end, Accidental Voyeurism, M/M, PWP, Prowl has a nosy streak, Prowl will never be the same, Ratchet Rules, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Sunny should always be a bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 14:19:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12037683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisEmrys/pseuds/ArtemisEmrys
Summary: : Prowl comes upon a sticky situation and realizes it’s more than it seems. Part 2 of my Voyeur Series. PWP.





	Passion Play

Calm façade on the outside and cursing the very names of Skids and Mudflap on the inside, Prowl crested the ridge. One door wing held high in agitation, the other drooping low on his back, barely attached by the hinge, he was sure the signal of the one he needed was coming from this direction. After having the Terror Twins barrel around the corner and knock not only Ironhide, but Prime, onto the SIC and bang up his precious sensory wing, he had immediately commed the CMO, and got no answer. After several tries, he had turned to Teletraan II for answers, and the missing medic had shown up as a ping out in the desert just beyond the base. He had left the Prime and his weapons master to punish the hapless Twins, and headed out to find the medic on his own.

Trudging along, Prowl froze, hearing a curious noise. It was a low hum, almost a moan, and it repeated, followed by a gasp. Prowl scrambled up the dune in front of him. Was someone hurt? Was it Ratchet? What was he doing out here anyway?

In his hurry to have his door wing fixed, he hadn’t even thought to check to see if the medic was alone out here in the desert.

When his optics were high enough to finally peer over the dune, Prowl froze again at the sight before him. Primus, this was the last thing he had wanted to know about the medic and their other set of resident trouble makers. The air stuttered in his vents as he ducked down, unable to pull his gaze away from the spectacle before him.

Ratchet was sprawled out on his back struts, chassis heaving as a large golden front liner surged between his thighs. The physician flung his helm back, optics clenched tight, digits clamped on a broad pair of shoulders, groaning loudly. Sunstreaker grunted, pistoning his hips a fast and hard as he could, biting harshly at the medics neck cables. Prowl could see a little glint of light where he shallowly pierced the soft derma and energon flowed sluggishly.

“Uhn, Sunny!” Ratchet gasped, spreading himself wider, pushing down against the Lambo’s hip assemblies and clenching his port as tight as it would go. A surge of lubricants noisily splashed down on the sand beneath them as Ratchet was filled to his limits, the huge spike at his port too big to allow room for much else. “Uh, so-so good. Ah! Don’t stop!”

Sunstreaker moaned, taking his hand off of one of the yellow medic’s hips, and groping downward blindly to stroke Ratchet’s erect spike. Ratchet surged as the slick hand found and caressed him, and he slammed his lips against Sunstreaker’s own, battling him for dominance.

Prowl gulped. Primus. This was hot. He should go. He should definitely get out of here and give them some privacy, his wing could wait. But, by all things holy, he could not look away. It was like watching some sort of natural phenomena gone wild; You wanted to run, to save yourself, but you couldn’t pry your optics away with an arc welder. Sunstreaker and Ratchet were putting on such a good show, but it didn’t end there. It didn’t even compare to the sight of Sideswipe.

Sides knelt behind his brother, optics serenely off line, hands loosely holding on to a pair of golden hips and a swaying golden aft. His interface was open and his pressurized spike pressed lightly between his brothers thighs. Every time Sunstreaker pulled back from thrusting into Ratchet, Sideswipe’s spike slipped between his legs and wetly slid in the lubricants dripping from Sunny’s own closed port panel. It was teasingly light, this forbidden touch, and Prowl could see that Sunstreaker was unable to hold back a slight whimper as his brother’s engorged equipment pressed so tantalizingly close to his aching entrance.

Sideswipe was moaning, sliding a digit up to play with a transformation seam on his brother’s back plates, whispering lightly with every slow, teasing thrust he made. “Come on, babe. Come on. Let me in, Sun. Please, Sunny…”

It was almost hypnotic. The difference between Sideswipe’s slow thrusting and Sunstreaker’s harsh pounding into Ratchet causing Prowl to feel the heat build up in his own panel until he caught himself rubbing over his own closed interface. He snatched his digits away. He would not go that far, even if what he was already doing was in his mind morally reprehensible.

Sideswipe shifted a hand lower, rubbing hard at his twin’s panel covering and hidden seams, thrusting shallowly and spreading the lubricants there farther. “Suuunny. Primus, Sunny, need you.” He grunted, leaning over double to lave at his brother’s aft with his glossa. He pulled back, dipping it between his thighs to follow the path his spike had taken only moments ago, drawing a whine from his own vocalizer as he lapped up his twin’s sweet leaking juices.

Sunstreaker, groaning, hiked up his hips, still sliding into Ratchet’s tight heat, and slowly released the controls on his panel. Sides pulled back up and rocked his hips against his aft. Sunny rocked his hips back, gasping as his port caught the tip if Sides’ spike, before plunging back into the medic, whose engines revved with pleasure. He repeated this again and again, Sideswipe stilling so that only the very tip of his spike slid in to pulsing slickness. He pulled out, rubbing the head of his spike over the wet folds that made his brother’s port, getting both he and his brother as drenched as possible before sliding the tip back in. Sunstreaker gasped, a low keen flowing from him,  
and he bucked his hips, cause Ratchet to arch up, clamping his thighs tight over the yellow Lambo’s hips.

“Oh, FRAG YEAH!” Sunstreaker growled, grinding down. He looked as if he didn’t know whether to surge forward into Ratchet or arch back into his brother. Sides, after a few more slow rubs with the tip of his spike, stilled his brother’s hips, causing both Sunstreaker and Ratchet to whine.

“Uhn! What are you doing, don’t stop!” The medic gasped, trying to wiggle his own hips to get the pace going again. But the weight of the Twins had him pinned, and the strength of Side’s grip on his brother’s aft was relentless. Slowly, torturously, Sides re-angled himself, so instead of slipping between the slick fold of Sunny’s port he began to slide in. The yellow Lambo gasped, tightening his grip on Ratchet’s sides, and made a high-pitched noise that Prowl had no idea the deep sonorous voice of the front-liner could make. H whimpered gain, trying and failing to buck. “S-Sides! Ah! Hurry!”

Sideswiped tsked, his face a picture of concentration as he slid in inch by inch. “Always in a rush, brother…” He gasped as the tight port clenched even tighter. “I want to enjoy this…”

Ratchet, finally finding his voice, growled. “Sideswipe, if you don’t hurry up I will snap that off and weld it to your forehelm, so help me!” He gasped as the red Lambo suddenly pulled all the way out and slammed forward into his brother, which caused the YELLOW twin’s spike to slide sharply into Ratchet. All three mechs groaned, and Sideswipe started a medium pace, hard enough to make Sunny jolt into Ratchet, but slow enough to make sure none of them went over too soon.

“Uh! Uh… y-you would not. Uh! You… Primus! Y-You like my spike too much... Ah!” He used his hands to lower Sunny down on to Ratchet for a better angle, leaving himself completely in control of the rate of interfacing. Sunny mewled, helpless, unable to move forward or backwards, but by Primus, enjoying the loss of control.

“Oh!" Sunstreaker writhed, assaulted from all sides. “Harder, fraggit!”

Ratchet, lost in his own bliss, either didn’t hear Side’s comments or didn’t care to answer as he used what little leverage he had to return Sunstreaker’s thrusts as Sideswipe increased the pace again. They all moaned, but it was the sounds emitting from the yellow Lambo that surprised Prowl most.

As the pace hit frantic, Sunstreaker was mewling, a full octave higher than his voice normally was. He gasped and whimpered, venting hard and fast, hands splayed helplessly across Ratchet’s chassis as his brother slammed him hard from behind. Again and again he bucked, yowling, almost incoherent with pleasure. “Oh! Yes! H-harder, Primus! Uhnn! Oh, oh, oh!” He begged, leg struts beginning to lock and lubricants rushing down to mingle with Ratchet’s and Sideswipe’s own “Please, ah! Sides! Ratch~! Guuh!”

Prowl, unable to help himself any loner, fingered his own panel as he watched all three mechs gasping and moaning. Sunstreaker was the first to hit the top, overloading in both his spike and his valve as electricity crackled across his chassis. He growled, gasping helplessly again, and rocked with the waves of his overload. Ratchet, gasping as hot transfluid flowed into and back out of his valve, keened as his own overload hit. He grasped at Sunstreaker’s helm, pulling him down and silencing him with a passionate kiss, glossa tangling and fighting.

Sideswipe hissed as Sunstreaker’s valve tightened down on him with almost impossible force. His thrusts became frantic as he lost it, throwing his helm back and howling to the bright desert sky. He emptied himself into his brother with a grunt and a moan, feeling his transfluid go deep, filling his twin up and slicking the way for a few more quick, erratic pumps of his hips. His own lubricants bathed his thighs as his port reacted, unable to hold back at the overwhelming pleasure pulsing from his trapped spike. The mechs all groaned again and slumped, exhausted, into the sand. Sideswipe weakly pulled out and rolled to the side of the depression they had made in the ground, rolling until he could wrap one arm around both his twin and the shuddering medic. The only sound was light gasping vents, cooling fans whirling, and the ticking over over-heated metal as it cooled. The crackle of electricity died down after a while as the trio rested.

“Primus, you two are going to be the end of me.”

The twins both snorted, Sunny nuzzled Ratchet’s neck cabling and settling. Sides leaned over and captured the medic’s lips in a soft caress, the one thing that he had missed during the lively bout of ‘facing. They all seemed to settle, and for a long moment it was silent.

Prowl, on the other hand, was anything but settled. He suddenly had the urge to seek out Jazz for a bit ‘interaction’ himself. Turning, using all his stealth training, he began to make his way back down the dune. However, after only a step or two he froze again, hearing something he would never expect to hear out of one of the twins’ vocalizers. Especially not Sunstreaker’s.

“I love you, Ratch.” The whispered words caught on the light winds and went straight to Prowl’s audials and he was floored.

“Yeah, Ratch, love you.” That was Sideswipe, and Prowl was suddenly ashamed as he heard Ratchet warmly echo the sentiment. This wasn’t some spontaneous roll in the hay that Prowl had come upon, or like he was planning to have with Jazz on the Prime’s desk. This had been the love-making of three mechs who were obviously devoted that he had unashamedly spied on, touching himself as if he’d been at a pleasure-bot show in the depths of Kaon. He shook his helm at himself, not sure of how to feel.

“Bond with me.” Prowl whirled back around as he heard Ratchet whisper these words and peered back over the dune, mouth gaping open. Bond? Bonding? Hardly anyone bonded anymore, because of the war and the threat it could pose to their loved ones. “Both of you. Please. I want to share my spark with you. I want to share everything I have with you.”

It was silent for a moment, and the Sunstreaker whispered “Yes,” even as Sideswipe came out with a strangled, “No.”

“Sideswipe! What the frag?!” Sunstreaker quickly rolled off the stunned medic who was silently staring at the red Lambo with lost looking optics. “What do you mean, ‘No’!?” He grabbed his brother’s arm plates and shook him harshly.

Sideswipe, jumping to his pedes, shook off the digits clamped down on his arm and scowled. “We can’t Sunny! We’re front liners!”

“So what?!’ Sunstreaker was starting to look a bit frantic, stomping forward to stand chest plate-to-chest plate with his brother, the scowl on his face feral. 

“So what? What if we die, Sunny!?” He stepped back and looked down at the silent medic. “If something happens to one of us, not only does the other one go, but you as well, Ratchet. You’re too important to the Cause, much more important than us. Prime needs you, all of the Autobots need you. And we’re much more likely to get deactivated than you. We can’t risk it.”

Sunstreaker seemed to deflate, looking at both his brother and Ratchet with rage and ferocious sorrow in his optics. “Fraggit, Sides…”

“You know it’s true, Sunny.” They both turned to look down at the medic who had not said a thing the entire time. Ratchet, gaze shuttered and giving nothing away, stood slowly and brushed the sand and other detritus off his frame with a shaking hand. Optics down, he nodded and began to move past the twins.

“I understand.”

Sunstreaker caught his arm in his hand, but Ratchet flinched and the Lambo dropped it like it had burned him. “Ratchet, please…”

Ratchet just shook his helm, still looking towards his pedes. “It’s… I just need some time alone. Please. Just… please.” He turned rushing off towards the base gate and Prowl had to scramble as silently as possible behind a conveniently placed boulder to avoid being detected. Peering from behind the boulder, he watched as the twins stood silently, staring off in the direction the medic had disappeared.

“Slag.”

“Sides! You screwed it all up, I could just~!” The yellow Lambo growled, swiping harshly at the goop and sand stuck to his armor with his digits and a chamois he had pulled from subspace. He tossed it into Sideswipe’s face. “Did you see his face, Sides? Did you!? How could you say no like that?!”

“It was the right thing to do! We can’t lose him, Sunny! We can’t be the cause of his deactivation! He takes care of everyone, he’s important to every mech here, not just us.” He quickly wiped himself off before balling the cloth and tossing it at his brother’s helm, who caught it easily and subspaced it, still pacing and growling. Sideswipe slumped back down in the sand. “You… you know I feel the same way you do for him, Sunny… “

Sunstreaker snorted with contempt.

“You know I do, you slagger!” Sideswipe covered his faceplates with a trembling hand. “I’ve… I’ve never felt this way for any mech other than you. It’s like nothing I’ve ever been through. I love him.” 

Sunstreaker, sighing and sitting gingerly beside his brother on a small pile of rocks, grumped internally about the scratches to his perfect paint scheme. “He’s the one, Sides. He is. The mech we’ve been looking for all this time and thought we’d never find. We can’t let him get away from us.”

Prowl shuddered, once again feeling like he was intruding on something he should never have been a part of. But now he couldn’t move. They would certainly notice him now that they weren’t so… distracted. He had no excuse, and whatever tentative truce he had with the twins would be forever shattered. For the efficiency and moral of the faction, and his own personal peace of mind, he had to be sure the Lambos never knew he was there. Plus Ratchet couldn't ever find out. Prowl might go to medbay for a stripped joint, and Ratchet’d find a way to deactivate him though his knee assembly if he ever knew he’d spied on them.

Sideswipe nodded, resting his helm on a strong yellow shoulder, and wrapping an arm around his brother. “He’s the other half of our spark. Together we make one, and Ratchet has the spark that calls to ours. He loves us both, at the same time, and that has never, ever happened before.”

“Don’t you see that we have to do this?”

Sideswipe was silent for a long moment, the slumped, his helm falling towards his chassis. “I’m scared, Sun. We can’t let anything happen to him.”

Sunstreaker nodded, pulling Sides up as he stood. “So what if we’re still at war, still in danger? This fragging war has lasted 9 million vorns. It could never end, and if we don’t do this now then when? If we live our lives in fear, the ‘Cons win. We have to do this. We’ll just have to learn to be more careful.” Sideswipe snorted. “We can do it for Ratchet.” He glanced at him sideways. “Means no more Jet Judo.”

Sideswipe pouted and Sunny shot him a haughty grin. Sideswipe nodded, “We can do it for Ratchet.” He paused. “I’m an idiot. I should have just said yes. Think he’ll even want to talk to us? “

Sunstreaker preened, showing off his gleaming, if a bit sandy, paint job. “How can he resist all this beauty? He’ll fold like a house of cards, as the humans might say.”

Sideswipe, making fake gagging noise, shoved his brother, who stumbled with a scowl. Sides grinned, “Race ya.” With that, he was off, transforming and kicking up a cloud of dust as he sped towards the base and medbay. Sunstreaker, cursing and coughing to clear his vents, transformed and shot off after him like a bullet.

Prowl was left behind in the dissipating dust cloud at a loss for what to do. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he turned and slowly started back towards base, his injured door wing still drooping by his side. He’d definitely have to wait to get it fixed now; He had a feeling the resident medic would be busy. He paused. Could he really leave it at that? Could he really sit there and never know what happened? How it all ended? He had already broken every moral ideal he had, why not go all the way? Decision made, he transformed himself (hurt wing locked down tight to keep it from flopping around), and sped towards the hangar that held Teletraan II and the security monitors that monitored the base, Earth proper, and space for sects around the planet. Stopping, transforming and putting on his calmest, most unruffled face, he strode in, nodding to Bluestreak, the only other mech on duty. Moving to a monitor as far to the back as he could find, he plugged in, looking around surreptitiously. Ascertaining that he was indeed alone, he plugged in to the monitor both visually and audially, overriding the codes that protected the security cameras in the medbay. And he was just in time.

He watched as both Lambos came rushing into the bay and skidded to a stop just in front of Ratchet, who jerked, startled.

The medico sighed, setting down the datapad he gripped tightly in his servos and turned to the pair. “Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, I thought I told you that I needed a bit of time to myse~” But that was all he got out before both of the twins bum-rushed him, lifting him bodily off his pedes as he squeaked, and hustling him into his back office. They slammed the door. Hastily inputting code, Prowl switched the camera view to the one in the office, and was met with a barrage of cursing by the irritated medic. 

“You fraggin’ aft-headed hooligans, put me down!” He banged at the twins back plates with balled servos, bearing his denta and glaring. “I’m not a slaggin’ sparkling! You can’t just burst into MY medbay and~!” He yelped as the twins unceremoniously plopped him into his own office chair, where he glared up at them. The twins, looking amused, quickly both schooled their expressions into as sober of one as they could, and knelt on their knee assemblies before the indignant medic who continued to spew abuse.

They put on their most contrite look and said simultaneously, “Ratchet, we’re sorry.”

That shut the raging medic up mid-sentence, and he sat floored. “You’re… sorry.”

They nodded. “I was stupid,” murmured Sideswipe, reaching over to caress Ratchet’s cheek.

“He was,” Sideswipe scowled at the grinning Sunstreaker, “but I talked some sense into the afthead.” He reached over to caress the medic’s other cheek plate, leaning forward to lay his helm on Ratchet’s lap.

“Please, Ratchet. We’d love to bond with you,” they said, looking up at the yellow medic with pleading eyes. “Please forgive me, Ratch. I was just… I’m scared.” Sideswipe laid his helm on the medic’s other leg, kissing his thigh, “I’m so scared of losing you.”

“Would you still bond with us?”

Prowl found himself holding in his vents as he waited for the silent, shocked looking Ratchet to respond. The medic’s optics twirled, and he peered down at the bent helms before him. As he looked at the two most prideful mechs he knew outside of Starscream, bowing before him, and risking it all, Prowl could practically see the big medic’s resolve crumble. He stroked the back of two beautiful helms and sniffed ightly, bending down to place a light kiss on each. “Damn you fools, damn you.” He placed a hand under each chin and pulled them up until their optics met, blue on blue on blue. “I’m not going anywhere, idiots.” He gave them both a rather watery smile, optics shining. “Of course I will bond with you. Both of you. After all, it was my idea in the first place.”

The twins, grinning widely, came up with a surge and tackled the medic off his office chair with a large bang. The kissed him with fervor, laughing in joy and obvious relief. Prowl finally started cycling cooling air normally again, vents releasing with a whoosh that had Bluestreak looking over at him curiously. Watching for a few more moments as the actions in the office started to take another amorous turn, he shut off the monitor and unplugged himself, a smile on his faceplates.

Standing, he walked towards the doors of the security office with a spring in his normally emotionally constrained step. Pausing only to pat Bluestreak kindly on his helm, he continued on his was, broken door wing temporarily forgotten. That is, until he arrived back in the command center and Prime and Ironhide inquired where he’d been all this time and why he hadn’t got his wing fixed like he said he would. Fumbling for answer, he tripped over Skids and Mudflap who were scrubbing the floor with human-sized toothbrushes. He landed with a crash, wincing as he landed on his other door wing.

“Slag.”

Fin.


End file.
